Batman Beginning of The Crusade
by DeChunk
Summary: The deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne shook their son Bruce to his core, leading him down a road of self destruction. Family friend, Henri Ducard, attempts to bring use in his life. Please review.
1. A Day Which Will Live in Infamy

Batman – Beginning of Infinity

By DeChunk

Based on characters created by DC

They were the shots heard round the world. Thomas Wayne and his wife, Martha, were shot dead in the heart of their native Gotham by a petty thief.

Their deaths were the front page of almost every paper around the world, filled with words of regret for the passing of two great humanitarians. Words were said for their charity, their hospitality, and their business. Only one paper mentioned a fact that would further influence the events to come: it all happened in front of their seven year old son, Bruce.

The Waynes had no family to speak of. Thomas and Martha were both only children, and their parents had died some time earlier. The only adult Bruce actually knew and not simply introduced to at a party once and then never heard from them again was the family butler, Alfred. A Boston Brahmin man, his manners were impeccable, but he had no idea how to raise a child. He could make Master Bruce's meals, clean his bedroom, and keep him updated on his schedule and such, but could he teach Master Bruce to throw a baseball? Could he truly help make the boy into a man when it came time? The forty six year old man asked himself these questions while sitting in the limousine. It came to a stop.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said to the quiet boy sitting next to him. "We're here."

He quietly followed Alfred out of the car and into the field lined with headstones. There was a large group of Thomas and Martha's friends waiting around the grave. Bruce recognized a few of them. There were people who worked for his parents like Mr. Fox, Mr. and Mrs. Updike, Ms. Quinn, and Mr. and Mrs. Luthor. There was Mr. Jonas Queen and Mrs. Holly Queen and their son, Ollie, whom Bruce had been introduced to on many occasions. The service began and a priest said some things about life's fleeting qualities and how the best are sometimes taken from us in their prime. It took way too long and Bruce stopped paying attention, instead looking at the twin graves before him. The caskets on top seemed too identical to be his parents. They were both black and had an ivory trim to accentuate the darkness of the material.

As the clergyman finally stopped talking and the bodies of his parents were lowered into the ground, Bruce felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, and to his surprise it was Mr. Ducard. He knew Mr. Ducard was one of Father's friends, but never knew why. He always creeped Bruce out in a horror movie kind of way. After the brief contact, without a word, Mr. Ducard walked away. Everyone else followed suit. Bruce ignored their movements and stood motionless in front of the dual graves.

"Master Bruce. It's time to go."

Bruce heard Alfred's voice, but didn't want to heed them.

"It's getting dark, and I don't want you catching a cold." The boy stood as a statue would. "We can come back tomorrow." Alfred turned the boy around with very little resistance and led him back to the limousine. Bruce looked out his window the whole way back.

"What's going to happen next?"

Those were the first words Bruce said in the past six days and Alfred could only find one thing he could say: "I don't know."


	2. The Symbol

It was a day and a half later that they found the most hated man in the country: Joe Chill. The man oozed moral and mental inferiority and the media dogs ate it up. It was Thomas's watch that gave him away. Tried hawking it at a pawn shop not knowing of the inscription Martha wrote on the backside of it.

Alfred and the boy in his protective care sat outside the courtroom waiting for the moment young Bruce would have to give his testimony. Alfred didn't exactly feel comfortable with this, but the boy was the only wittiness. If only he knew the man was just trying to pull the heartstrings of the jury.

"So I have to tell them everything?"

"Yes, Master Bruce." Alfred hesitated before he continued. "Tell them as much as you feel comfortable telling them. And if you don't know something, say you don't know it. Don't let the lawyers get to you too much."

The boy looked back down at his shoes. "Okay, Alfred."

The old boy looked at the child to his side and put his arm around his shoulder. "It's going to be alright," he said. "They caught him. He's not going to be able to do anything bad anymore."

Bruce rest his head on Alfred's shoulder and they were both quiet for the next half hour.

"Bruce," the prosecutor said as he opened the door. "It's time for you to come in."

Bruce gave Alfred a quick look and then followed the man into the courthouse.

* * *

"It was the most cold hearted thing Channel Nine News had ever seen," said the lady on tv. "It was the court trial of Joe Chill, convicted of the murder of both Thomas and Martha Wayne, prominent Gotham philanthropists. Everything was going by the numbers until their son, seven year old Bruce Wayne, gave his testimony. Defense Attorney, David Sheckles, came in for his cross examination and made scathing remarks about both the child's memory and his competence as a person. After not heeding Judge Marcas's warnings about barring him from court, Bruce finally broke into tears and shouted, 'That man killed my mom and dad. Can't we just put him in jail so everyone can stop making me talk about this?' Chill was sentenced to life in prison with no bail. Sheckles is rallying to get a less harsh punishment calling the ruling cruel and unusual."

Alfred turned off the television. As soon as they had gotten home, Bruce ran to his room and locked the door. It was 8:07 and his dinner had already got cold, losing any palatability it would have had if he were to have even tried it. What a waste. The cook had made it specifically to cheer Bruce up. Too bad. Alfred had to do something to take his mind off of things. A walk around the manor would do it.

The middle aged butler quietly strolled through the halls of the massive building, contemplating all the history that must have happened there. Ambassadors, nationalists, industrialists, all of the most powerful people had been walking through these halls at one point for a gala, or fundraiser, or masquerade. These rooms held secrets that would ruin lives. These walls heard books and scripts before they were even drafted. Not for some time would they ever again.

The courtyard was up next on Alfred's nostalgic walk, but he wasn't alone. Bruce had somehow climbed out of his room and snuck out to play around in the grass. The thought brought a smile to the middle aged servant's face. There was a problem though: Bruce wasn't playing. He was looking over the edge of a large old well that the property was built around. Nothing else. Just staring into the wet abyss. Alfred hesitated to ask what he was doing. After all, everyone had their own way of grieving and Bruce had been through a lot. This was not to say the butler wasn't worried; he just wanted to not interfere. So he watched the boy focus in on the blackness.

Bruce looked down at the wavering reflection of himself in the bottom of the well. It shimmered and shook like black jell-o or a sequined sheet being dusted. He wondered if perhaps he wasn't looking at himself, but a boy like him in some other universe who was bummed because his parents had forgotten his birthday. He wondered if that boy wished to trade places with him because of his own selfish thoughts. Then, they would trade places and Bruce would have parents once again, and when the boy on the other side of the well realized his folly, Bruce wouldn't switch back with him, and he'd have to be the one who went to court. He'd be the one whom everyone told that it would all be okay eventually. He'd be the one who stole his mother's old hairdryer to dry the tear marks from his pillow, only to create a new one because the hairdryer reminded him too much of the mother he once had. Bruce thought about this for quite some time. Maybe it would happen. Maybe he'd be able to be with his parents again.

Then the other boy got closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Until finally they met face to face, and the enchanting wave fell over him. Bruce could feel every atom around him whooshing past. It was cool, but refreshing. And then it got colder, so he started to shiver. Then Bruce realized he couldn't breathe. He pulled his head up from the well water to hear Alfred's voice above him.

"Master Bruce! Are you hurt?!"

Bruce was cold, and that wasn't helping his arms from flailing on their own. He kicked his feet a bit to stay afloat when they hit something soft. It was ground. He could barely touch, but it was enough to keep his head above water. After getting his footing barely in place, he looked back up at his caretaker and shook his head no.

"I'll go get help. Just keep your head up and tread lightly!"

With that Alfred left, and the youth saw only a charcoal gray circle above him. Bruce decided to assess his surroundings a bit more. The well had no bucket. Or rope, for that matter. All around him were large gray and brown slabs of rock fitted on top of one and other in a death tube. There was moss on some of them, but not on most. The water itself stank of earth and minerals that were never in the water Bruce drank.

It was very dark around him, almost to the point of blackness, but in that blackness there lie a shape. It was jagged on the edges and one could not see past about a half an inch before zero visibility. Bruce thought about maybe using it as a ledge so that he wouldn't have to struggle with the shifting sand of the ground all that much anymore. He leaped up and tried to hang on.

Slipped.

He tried again.

Couldn't get a grip.

Third time's the charm. And how true the old saying was. Bruce used what was left of his strength to pull himself up onto the stone ledge, faltering at first, but eventually able to sit on it. The hole had been bigger than he once thought; only a few inches taller than if he stood up. He didn't though, because he might lose his footing and crack his head on the opposite wall. Bruce breathed heavily and gently eased himself in the lying position, making sure not to push himself off in any way with his legs dangling off the edge. The stone was cold, but he didn't mind. Shelter was shelter, and as long as he didn't have to keep paddling or balance on the tips of his toes he was okay with it. His eyes were closed, thinking about all the stupid things he said, all the stupid things he had done. A seven year old should not have this much regret.

Eek.

That noise. It was unfamiliar, and yet Bruce knew exactly what it meant.

Eek, eek!

It was louder. He couldn't see a thing. A panic moved down his body like a scan. It was strange. The only thing Bruce could equate it to was the warning of a demon.

Eeek, eeeek, EEEEKK!

Bruce yelped and flailed his arms around a bit. This caused him to shift and stir just enough to land him back in the well water. Finally getting his bearings a bit, he looked at The Adversary.

It was as black as the pit it spilled forth from, with a slender body and arms like a cape. Its feet had talons as did the cape from which Bruce feared. The prominent ears looked as if they could hear his very thoughts and the eyes were round and hollow, not able to judge by appearance alone. This was his undertaker, Bruce thought. This was his end.

A hand swatted the beast away. Alfred wore a harness attached to a rope a few of the others had found.

"Grab my hand!"

Bruce did not hesitate. He grabbed the man's hand and was hoisted up from his aquatic surroundings into the arms of a more welcoming environment. Eventually reaching the surface, Alfred laid Bruce in the arms of Mrs. Tuttle, the staff nurse, and she carried him off to the infirmary. She kept repeating the mantra all the others had told him before: "everything's going to be alright", but Bruce couldn't hear her very well over the screeches the creature had given to him. And after a bit, that's all he heard. Harsh screeching. Over and over again.


	3. Kane Academy

It had been three years since his parent's death and Bruce still hadn't had any contact with the outside world. He had been homeschooled by various tutors, but Alfred believed it was time for Bruce to get out into public, so he enrolled the boy in Kane Academy, a private school in New England. This did not go well with the heir to the Wayne estate.

"Why do I need to go to some school? I've got everything I could have wanted right here in the manor."

"Friends, Master Bruce. You need friends." Alfred grabbed Bruce's luggage and placed it closer to the front door. "It's not that I don't think the people here are trustworthy or anything of that sort. It's just healthier for a boy to have friends his own age, with whom he can discuss how unfair their parents and teachers are, what girls are icky and most important form a secret club with its own handshake and secret code."

Bruce was bemused. "That all sounds fun, but I'd rather not."

"You don't have a choice in this. You're going and that's final." Alfred literally put his foot down at this.

Bruch hung his head low and sighed. When he opened his eyes, he was on the front steps of a very old looking building. It was all redish brown brick and large grey stones. This was not going to be a good year.

A man came out of building. "Salutations!" the man cried. He looked like all of the mourners at the funeral. He had thick glasses and a gold tie that was most likely made of real gold which did not match his forest green suit. "Welcome to Kane Academy, Mr. Wayne." The man leaned over to pick up his luggage. "Let me get that for you."

"Who are you and why are you touching my bag?" Had Bruce been only a little older, he would have decided that this was an unfortunate set of words, but luckily he was ten and found no humor in it.

The man got back up, but slowly and gripping his back. "I'm sorry, I'm Dean Weisinger." His hand reached out, but Bruce chose not to accept it. The Dean brought his hand back to his mouth and coughed. "I know your father went here when he was a little boy and-"

At this moment, Bruce tuned his voice out. He had heard this speech a hundred times or more. 'I knew your parents and they were good people. It's a shame they're gone. How are you holding up? Did you get any nice toys recently?' All that sort of bull. God, his lips kept flapping up and down, even around in circles. They stopped. He was looking at Bruce, most likely expecting an answer.

"Yea sure."

The Dean smiled and picked up Bruce's large suitcase. The boy let out a relieved sigh as they both started walking into the school and down various hallways.

"So you'll be sharing a room with a few others."

"Like?"

The Dean stopped. "I'm not sure." After a brief pause he continued to both walk and talk, "Your names will be outside the door, so I'm sure you'll learn to be friends." Bruce rolled his eyes. They walked up a large flight of stairs and down a long hallway. Like the hallway you throw the hotdog down. That long. The Dean stopped at a door towards the end of the hall. "I know it's a long walk, but it has a fantastic view of the gardens and it's close to the bathroom."

_Because that's exactly what I wanted_, Bruce thought to himself. _A view and a bathroom_. They entered the room and The Dean put Bruce's bag down, leaning over the wrong way and hurting his back slightly.

"You're the first one here, but I'm sure the other boys will be here soon."

Bruce shrugged and The Dean gave a strange smile. After an awkward pause, The Dean left and Bruce got situated on his bed. He lay back and looked at the ceiling. White. They were always white. Every ceiling he had ever seen was white. Never even the color of the walls. Always white.

"Hey, neighbor!"

The voice came from the door and was for some reason very familiar to Bruce. He found out why very quickly.

"Ollie? Ollie Queen?" Bruce stat up on the bed. He never knew how to feel about Ollie. He was nice enough, and always had a big honest smile on his face, but it had seemed too force. Always hung out because their parents knew each other. "Since when do you go here?"

"Since two years ago, buddy boy." That smile really was ever-present. He pushed his blonde hair off to the right side of his head. "Whatcha been up to?"

"Nothin' really. Kind of sedentary."

Ollie became confused. "Sedentary?"

"Sitting around a lot."

Ollie laughed a bit and sat down on another one of the beds. "Pretty fancy word, there."

Bruce was now confused. "That was a 'fancy word'?"

"It was long, and meant something that had to be summarized afterward. That's fancy."

"Is there a fancy scale?"

"Not that I know of. Should we make one?"

Bruce thought it over. "Maybe later. Doing it now we might ruin this conversation."

"The conversation about what we'd be talking about if we were doing what we were going to do?"

Bruce leaned back a bit. "Now you're being fancy."

"No, I'm just being obtuse."

"Wait, no, now you're fancy."

The two of them gave another short laugh. "Got me there."

"So you're sharing a room with me? How weird is that?"

Ollie leaned forward. "Very weird. Especially since we aren't."

"What? Then why are you here?"

Ollie brushed his hair again. "I entered with 'Hey neighbor'. I figured you'd pick up that I was a neighbor and not a roommate."

Bruce smacked his head. "Ollie. You're an idiot."

"Tell me something I don't already hear every day." Ollie was the only one laughing. "What? That was funny."

"That was sad."

"That was offensive."

"That was over sensitive."

"That was mean."

"This is retarded."

"This is a lie."

Both boys quickly laughed as there was a rapping at the door. The boy standing in the frame had short brown hair with bangs that extended just past his eyebrows and brushed against the solid black frame of his glasses that made him look like Rivers Cuomo. He was a small scrawny kid, and the school uniform he had looked a size too big for him. The tie was even too long, extending well past his belt. If there was only one small meek boy in this entire school, he was standing before the two good friends.

"Hey, are you Bruce and Kevin?"

Bruce piped up. "Actually-"

"Yes we are," Ollie interrupted. He got up to shake the boy's hand. "You must be Tommy." Bruce had no idea how Ollie had figured that one out. Of course, he forgot about the placard which had all three of their names on it, and the fact that Ollie had to have seen said placard in order to deduce that Bruce was the one in the room. "I'm Kevin, and my morose friend here is Bruce."

Tommy smiled and grabbed Ollie's hand. "Pleased to meet the both of you." He left Ollie's palm and went for Bruce's. "So you're really Bruce Wayne. Wow. I've never met a celebrity before." Tommy took a short pause. "At least one I've wanted to meet."

Bruce scrunched his face up in a mocking smile. "I'm so honored." He relaxed his cheeks and a frustrated look took its place. Tommy's happy outlook quickly turned into subtle shame with a hint of anger.

Ollie quickly recovered from what could have been an epic rivalry in the making. "Listen, why don't we go check out the rest of the building? You know, as roomies."

Bruce and Tommy looked at each other. And they each said, "Okay."

And so Ollie led the two others around the building. There was nothing Tommy hadn't seen from his first tour around, and there was nothing Bruce was even mildly interested in as they passed large murals and portraits of old white men. Even the outdoor grounds were boring. The trees felt as if they needed Prozac, and the few flowers they had seemed to be crying for some reason.

"Can you feel that fresh air?" Ollie announced.

Bruce could feel something alright. He could feel that sensation that this was not going to be a good year.


	4. Good Friends and Tragic Times

Bruce and Tommy followed Ollie as he continuously rattled off obscenely inaccurate "facts" about the building around them. Tommy listened intently, in case he could find some way to bring this up in conversation. Bruce stared bemusedly at the gray stone walls that occasionally had doors or pictures of dead white guys to bring some sort of diversity to the environment. Unfortunately, the colors had all faded, and became the same sort of gray that they were supposed to be distracting the personnel from. The only thing that kept him from cutting his hand open and smearing the blood across the walls to bring some color into his vision was Ollie's History of the World part twelve. There was no way he could have made all of this up. Well, there was no way the average ten-year-old could have made all this up. Ollie, on the other hand, had not only the capacity, but the easily accessible ability.

"…And so, when he came back to his home in New England, he donated all of the money he made from the Vietnamese kidneys he had stolen and sold on the black market to his old Alma Mata, and that's why this is the Killinger Wing. Do I still have your attention?"

Bruce nodded, if only to prolong his boredom.

"Yes, yes, yes," Tommy said. "How did you learn all of this?"

"I'm just awesome like that." Ollie's ego was inflating at an exponential rate, and Tommy was not helping things.

Bruce was just waiting for the moment when it would finally pop, and he'd get to laugh at his friend's misfortune.

After a few more hallways of trivia, the tour finally ended, and the three were sitting with their backs to a tree enjoying the comfortable silence and the nice day. Ollie was looking to the sky, Bruce was individually plucking the grass from the ground around him, and Tommy was messing with his glasses.

"So Kevin," Tommy interrupted. "What do you do?"

"What do you mean?" the imposter replied.

"I'm talking like hobbies and interests, you know?" Tommy explained. "The things people usually talk about to know each other better."

Ollie cleared his mind and tried to think of something plausible for a rich boy named Kevin to like. "I collect baseball cards." Even as it came out of his mouth he had to admit, it was the lamest thing he could have ever come up with.

"Really? Me too!"

Ollie was not surprised by this response, but still found it hilarious. He fought to keep the laughter in. Bruce smiled at Ollie's folly, and continued destroying the vegetation around him.

"What cards do you have?" the excited and eager boy asked him.

"Uh…" This was quite the hole he had gotten himself into this time. Ollie knew nothing about baseball, and had only a passing interest in sports in general. _Quick, think of people you've heard of in films_, he told himself. "Jackie Robinson." _Is there any way to make this more valuable?_ "Rookie card."

Tommy's jaw had dropped so far, one could go spelunking in his mouth. "You have a Jackie Robinson rookie card?!" He turned to the boy whose pants should have been on fire by now. "How'd you find it?"

Now to concoct some faux family history. "Well it's not really mine. My father showed it to me a couple years back, and made me a promise." Ollie knew he had to make this seem heartfelt. "He said, 'Son,'" Ollie took a dramatic pause and squinted his eyes as to make it seem like he was emulating his "father", "'This is a very special card. It's worth a fortune both literally and sentimentally. Now I'm going to give this to you, but I'm going to wait a few years. I want you to know what it's like to be a man. Do you understand me?'" Ollie let the expression go and turned to Tommy.

Tommy's eyes were tearing up behind his large frames. "I wish I had a father like that." He bit his lip to hide his emotion. "It really means a lot to a kid, you know? To have a dad that respects him that much."

Ollie was a little creeped out that he had touched his newfound friend this well.

"Looks like you two are hitting it off real good," Bruce joked.

"Quiet, you." Ollie sensed an opportunity to change the subject. "Say, I don't think you've heard anything from Bruce yet."

Ollie smiled and Bruce was horrified. He kept mouthing "no, no, no" over and over again to his blonde friend.

"I don't know, Bruce doesn't want to talk I don't think. Let's hear more about you, Kevin."

"Don't be silly," Ollie replied. "Bruce is just dying to share more about himself." He turned to his friend. "Bruce? What do you like to do for fun?"

Bruce let out a small growl. "I guess I watch movies."

"What kind of movies?" Ollie jabbed.

"I don't know." Bruce genuinely thought it over. "Tim Burton stuff. Like Pee-Wee Herman and Beetlejuice."

"I'm guessing you've seen 'The Spider' then." Tommy was a comic buff and got excited that they were finally making films about the characters he grew up with. After Richard Donner's "Green Lama" series, Burton's "The Spider" movie was making the cult vigilante stories more prevalent. There was even talk of Raimi making a "The Shadow" film with Bruce Campbell.

Bruce, however, was not a fan of such childish media, but did appreciate a good story when he could. "Yes I have. Still prefer Zorro though."

"Zorro, are you kidding? Zorro's played out. There have been enough Zorro movies to fill a good sized basement." Tommy knew, because he had done just that. "The Phantom is a better character than Zorro."

"What?" Bruce stood up at this. "Zorro is a rich man fighting the tyrannies of the Spanish government. A symbol of how anyone can stand up to their oppressors and take back the freedom they deserve. The Phantom is a guy in a purple jumpsuit with a pair of guns. He's more at home in a John Woo movie than a heroic epic."

Tommy and Ollie turned to each other and then to the angry film buff before them. "Who's John Woo?" the former said.

Bruce forgot that his knowledge of film went beyond what the average ten-year-old's would be. "He's this Chinese guy-" They wouldn't understand. "Never mind. Just know that Zorro's of a different caliber than 'The Phantom'." Bruce sat back down. These sorts of things always got his blood going. Not a good thing.

Ollie felt he should break things up a bit. "Say, why don't we head back to the room? I'm sure we all have some unpacking still left."

"Sounds good, Kevin."

The charade was still on. Bruce was a bit less pissed. The three worked their way back to the boy's dormitory then to Bruce and Tommy's room.

"So, any ideas on what to do now?" Ollie turned to ask his followers. No response came from them as they stood frozen in the doorway. Ollie stood facing them. "What? No ideas? Well aren't you just a pair of uncreative minions."

Bruce was snickering and Tommy had a curious smirk on his face.

"So what do you suggest, Kevin?"

Something was up. Ollie could feel it in his right leg that he had broken a few weeks back. "I just came up with-"

"No," Tommy interrupted. "I was talking to him." The small boy pointed into the room and Ollie figured out why Bruce was so tickled at the moment.

On one of the beds sat a fourth child with dirty blonde hair that inched out of his baseball cap. He had a gameboy of some sort in his hands and was playing it vigorously. For some reason, he had chosen the spring uniform, complete with vest and knee high shorts, for his attire instead of the much more comfortable, considering the weather, fall uniform.

Ollie had been caught red handed, but Tommy wasn't pleased with the non-reaction he had gotten from the real McCoy. "I said, 'What do you suggest, Kevin?'" He yelled it with the appropriate gesture of having his hand cup around his mouth as if to amplify it.

Kevin looked up from his game to see the three boys looking back at him. "Oh, hey, Tommy. Who're the yahoos?" He nodded to the other two in the group.

Ollie turned to Tommy. "You knew?"

"Of course I did."

Bruce was doubled over, laughing at the massive deflation of Ollie's ego.

"Me and Kevin knew each other last year. In fact, I asked to room with him."

Ollie was confused. "You opened with, 'You must be Bruce and Kevin.' Why would you say that if you knew I wasn't Kevin?"

Tommy shrugged. "I like messing with people. Didn't think you'd pick up so quickly, but hey. Fun is fun."

Bruce was now on the floor. He hadn't had a good laugh in a long while.

Ollie kicked the idiot in motion in the ribs for good measure. He looked back at the trickster before him. A smile of appreciation crept across his face. "Put 'er there, you magnificent jerk." Ollie stuck his hand out in respect.

Tommy gave a grin and shook Ollie's hand. This casual acceptance was the beginning of a friendly rivalry that continued into their adulthood.

The four of them became good friends after that. Even Kevin ended up being a pretty cool kid. A little closed at first, but he seemed to have the right thing to say any time his mouth opened. He always had that videogame with him, though.

The classes sucked. They were pompous old white men teaching children to become pompous old white men. There was no Robin Williams from Dead Poet's Society. No Kevin Kline from The Emperor's Club. No inspiration in the classes at all. So the boys ended up spending most of their time sitting around or exploring the grounds. Ollie was the "leader" of the group because no one else really cared, Bruce would sit around and brood (remember, this was before brooding was cool), Tommy would be up-beat and cheerful, and Kevin would be playing some video game. They were in a nice little groove for a few months, until the beginning of November rolled around.

Bruce was lying in bed reading one of Tommy's old Doc Samson comics, when Tommy himself burst into the room.

"Bruce, something's up with Ollie!" he quickly yelled from the door frame.

Bruce hopped up to see what was the matter. The two ran down the hall to Ollie's room. There was a few other people crowding around his room, but nothing too fantastically large. They pushed their way to their friend who was sitting on the ground, crying.

"Ollie?" Tommy asked. "Ollie, what's wrong?"

Bruce was worried about his friend, but at the same time he had to get over himself. It wasn't like his parents had died or anything. Ollie just needed a little perspective on things.

Ollie's words came in between sobs. "Mom and Dad. They were going on vacation. Some island. The plane got lost in a storm." There was a long pause here. "They found the wreckage the other day. They were in it."

Bruce's thoughts were ill-timed. He found the sobbing annoying, but at least now it had a reason. He turned to Tommy and said, "Someone should console him." The two of them stared at each other for a bit. "What?"

"Nothing," Tommy replied. "You just went through something similar, so…"

"That doesn't mean I'm good with that sort of thing. Why not you?"

"Because you've known him longer, gone through something similar, and he'd think I was messing with him."

Bruce gave him an angry look, then reluctantly walked over to the lumped up pile of flesh and cloth that was his friend, and knelt beside it. "Listen… everything's going to be… okay." The words awkwardly tumbled out of his mouth. He had just used up his reservoir of sympathy, and was out of things to say.

Ollie looked back up at him. "How long did it take you?" Bruce gave his friend a confused look. "To get over it."

Bruce got up from his crouched position and headed back for the door, but not before saying, "I didn't."

Tommy stayed in Ollie's room to try and cheer him up, but it wasn't exactly working. Neither Bruce nor Tommy, not even Kevin would see him again for a few days.

When Bruce finally spotted what he thought was a mirage of Ollie, he was in a coat and hat carrying a large bag with him across the grounds. He thought of not confronting him, but decided it was better to just ask him straight up, "What'cha up to?"

"Doin' somethin'." Ollie's reply was blunt and vague. Would have been good any other day, but for some reason, Bruce felt compelled to press further.

"What kind of something?"

Ollie continued trudging along with the bag over his shoulder. "Got an idea from a history book."

Bruce followed because "What kind of idea?"

"When the first President Roosevelt got depressed, he basically grabbed himself by the suspenders and powered through it."

Bruce was confused. "Power through it? How?"

Ollie stopped in what Bruce thought was an arbitrary place. "With this." He dropped the bag and opened it. Inside was a curved stick held on each side by a string. Behind it were many pointed sticks with feathers at the blunt end. "Archery! The manliest of sports." They were in fact at Kane Academy's archery range. Somehow Bruce had not been observant to notice this.

"Isn't that boxing?" Bruce inquired.

"Do you know any other ten year olds who would want to box a kid with emotional issues to work out?"

Bruce gave it a quick thought. "I would."

"We'd end up killing each other. This is safer."

"Shooting things is safer. First time I heard that."

Ollie shrugged off Bruce's comment and held the bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. Lining up his shot, he pulled the bowstring back as far as he could and let go. Well, he didn't really let go so much as the string snapped out of his hand. Needless to say the arrow missed. Ollie shook his hand and gripped it a few times. "Stings like a mother!"

Bruce chuckled for a moment. "You sure this was the best idea?"

"No one's perfect in the beginning. I'll bet ya Michael Jordan missed a thousand shots before he got as good as he is now." Ollie picked up another arrow and began again.

"And I'll bet he didn't fail as epically as you just did."

The next shot missed the target, but at least this time it flew more than four feet and Ollie didn't hurt his hand quite so much. This would become routine for the newly orphaned blonde boy. Walk out every morning with his bow and a makeshift quiver and fire off as many arrows as he could before his arm got sore. A few times, he actually hit the target. At first sparsely, but with a gathering momentum in later sessions. And just as he predicted, he wasn't as down as he had been at first. Nowhere near the level of cheeriness he had at the beginning of the year, but he was on the right track.

Thanksgiving brought with it four things: a much needed break from school, a reunion with the posh lifestyle that most of the boys were used to, and two events that were quite important to say the least.

Because of Bruce and Ollie's status as without family, they were allowed to stay on campus with the children whose parents were in Bali or some other exotic destination instead of with family around an overgrown turkey. There really wasn't much to do since Tommy and Kevin had left. Most of the facilities were closed, and Ollie decided to do some extreme condition training by keeping on his archery regiment through the cold weather, complete with snow. Every once in a while, Bruce would get bored of sitting by himself (everyone can get sick of their favorite pastime if not done in moderation) so he'd venture off onto the grounds and try to find a place he hadn't found before, even going so far as to begin expanding the campus map to include various forests and caves. On these excursions, there were plenty of interesting things, like a tree in the shape of a Q. That's right, a capital Q made of a tree. Singular. Of course not every discovery was as pleasant as this, like the time he found one of the most unfortunate places to be caught during a blizzard.

He was in the southern forest, trying to find a nice clearing to document and tell the others later on, when the wind started to pick up and he lost his map. The snow began falling in thicker waves and the wind was now cutting like a knife. Bruce had to find a shelter, fast. His coat wouldn't hold up to this weather much longer, and the trees weren't large enough to be of much help. After a minute or two of searching, he stumbled into a large rock. He remembered a cave he had jotted down that was near here. He didn't have his map and didn't have time to try and find his compass, so he followed his instincts and traveled to his left, making sure to follow the rocks.

After what seemed to be a lifetime of uncertainty, he found the hole in the formation and ran inside. The cold had done its damage, and his extremities were fairly frostbitten. Even the cave, with no real warming or comfortable qualities felt like the living room at Wayne Manor after his exposure to the sudden storm. And with that, the young Master Wayne collapsed.

When he awoke, the cave had gone black, but there was an orange light to his left. It was a fire. He groaned and tried to get up, but something on his chest stopped him.

"Hey," a voice said. "I was worried you'd never get up."

Bruce looked around to see where the voice came from, and it happened to come from the same thing stopping his chest. A girl who he could only vaguely see had been using him as a pillow to help her lie down next to a primitive fire. She was wearing a wool hat over long hair of an indiscernible color and had her parka unzipped to reveal a Power Rangers t-shirt. A pair of mittens rested on Bruce's knees that he could only presume were hers. She now had her face turned as to look him in the eye.

"And you would be?"

"Andrea Beaumont," she said. Her smile made Bruce feel funny in a kind of way he liked. "I was at the other end of the cave, playing Jurassic Park when the storm hit. I wanted to see if there was another end that was out of the storm, and what do I find? A frozen boy on the ground and the storm even worse. So I figure you just needed a little sleep and a nice fire, and luckily, I have fire and enough strength to pull you back to the middle of the tunnel."

Bruce wiggled his fingers and toes to make sure everything was still in working order, and then started with his inquisition. "So, Ms. Beaumont, where exactly are you from?"

"I go to the Habersmith School for Gifted Women. I can only presume you're from Kane Academy."

"And how would you know that?"

"Well, my school is for only girls, and Kane Academy is our male counterpart." She snuggled her head deeper into Bruce's chest. "It's the Ockham's razor."

"Ockham's razor?"

"The simplest answer is probably the right one."

Bruce knew he should study more. "Why were you out by yourself?"

Andrea gave a sigh. "It's because all my friends suck." She returned to her position of using him as a pillow. "None of them like to adventure or talk about dinosaurs or play soccer. All they do is talk about horses and stupid movies."

"Movies aren't stupid."

"Stupid movies are stupid. Like The Last Unicorn."

Bruce shook his head. "Never heard of it."

"Lucky you. Marianna forced me to watch that stupid stupid movie at a her slumber party."

Bruce was curious about this girl's tastes. "How about Zorro?"

"What about Zorro?"

"What do you think of him?"

"A little unrealistic, but it's still fun."

"How is it unrealistic? It's not like Zorro's an alien or something."

"I'm just saying, a rich guy fighting crime himself instead of hiring a servant to do it? Not likely."

Bruce made a sound that could only be written as "pfftdq" and then continued onto using real words. "I could see it happening. A corrupt city, dastardly villains, they would need a hero. And a poor person couldn't do it, they don't have the resources. It would need to be someone who could afford to fight crime, with his own medic and whatnots."

"I'm not saying a rich man wouldn't help his fellow man, I'm saying he'd get someone else to do it for him. That way, there's no scars on him he'd need to explain, there's no interfering with his public social life. He could have his cake and eat it too."

"But Don Diego wants the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction that he's on the streets fighting the good fight. Doing what the Spanish Guard can't."

"So it's an ego thing?"

"What's ego?"

Andrea thought for a moment. "I guess it's like when someone thinks they're better than others."

"Zorro is better others."

"it's not misplaced, it's just something to make him feel better about himself."

Bruce thought over these words. "I guess." They resigned to silence in front of the fire for a few moments.

That's when Andrea started mumbling something. "Solomon Grundy/Born on a Monday/Christened on Tuesday/Married on Wednesday/Took ill on Thursday/Grew worse on Friday/Died on Saturday/Buried on Sunday/This is the end/Of Solomon Grundy."

"What?"

She sat up with her elbow digging into Bruce's chest. "It's a-" Bruce grunted with pain. "Oo, sorry." She replaced her arm so that her body hung over his torso. "It's a nursery rhyme my mom used to tell me before I went to bed."

"Are you sleepy?"

"Not particularly, but what else is there to do?"

Bruce thought it over. "Shadow puppets?"

Andrea gave him a glare with a smile. "Are you serious?"

"… No. But it is an option."

Andrea gave a soft giggle and returned to her comfortable position. "You know, I never got your name."

Bruce hesitated. "Bruce Wayne."

Andrea's eyes got wide and she quickly turned around to face him. "What?! You're Bruce Wayne!?" She almost climbed on top of him. "I can't believe I saved The Bruce Wayne!"

"Saved is a strong word." Bruce decided he had enough of lying down, and sat up. "Besides, I'm only ten. It's not like I've actually done anything."

"You're like Richie Rich, but real!"

"It's nothing to be happy about." Bruce shifted his body away from her. "I pretty much stayed home for three years, and only a few months ago made some friends."

"Wow. I didn't know it could be so… lonely."

There was a silence between them for a few beats. "What time is it?" Bruce finally said.

Andrea searched through her bag until she came up with a large golden pocket watch. "It's already six!"

"At night? No way!" Bruce stood up. "I've been in here for five hours?! Dinner's gonna be soon." Bruce looked both ways down the tunnel. "Uh, which way did I come from?" Andrea, in shock, pointed straight back towards him. "Okay thanks!" And with that, he ran down away from the fire.

"Wait!" she cried. Bruce stopped and turned back toward the girl. "Can we meet here again? Like tomorrow?"

Bruce thought for a second. "Um, sure. What time?"

Andrea gained a smile on her face. "How about after lunch, at two."

"Sounds good. I might bring Ollie, is that okay?"

She nodded happily. "That's fine. The more the merrier."

Bruce shook his head one last time and ran out of the cave he and Andrea had shared. The storm had stopped, and there was a thick layer of snow close to blocking the exit. Bruce powered through it, and took the long walk back to the main campus grounds.

He finally got back to his room to find Ollie waiting there for him.

"Dude!" He stood up. "Where have you been?"

"In a cave… tunnel… thing."

"Well come on, if we're any later, they might not let us eat!"

Bruce quickly shed his snow gear and hurried down to the dining hall. They got there just before the food was being closed up and ate the lukewarm chicken pot pie. There, Bruce told him of the map, the cave and Andrea Beaumont.

"You remember Kevin and Tommy are coming back tomorrow, right?"

"They can come too. It can be a party of some sort."

"Yea, party in a dark cave."

Bruce shrugged it off and the two finished their dinner and rested for the next day.

Bruce awoke to Kevin playing a new video game thing on his own bed. "When'd you get here?"

"'Bout an hour ago." Kevin's eyes didn't move from the screen. "Didn't feel like waking you up."

Same old Kevin. "Is Tommy here yet?"

"No. Haven't heard from him since break started."

"Alright. I'm gonna see if Ollie's up."

"You kidding? It's nine."

Bruce stared at his roommate. "You got here at eight in the morning?"

"Yep. Not tired at all."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever understand you."

"Neither will I."

Bruce took these words in stride and headed down to eat breakfast to find Tommy sitting at a table by himself with all of his bags around him. He did not look well.

"Hey, Tommy boy, what's up?"

"Cursed, I tell ya. Cursed."

"What are you talking about?"

Tommy turned towards Bruce. "Car crash. They're both dead. Like you and Ollie. We're cursed, I tell ya. Cursed."

And with that, Tommy had revealed that he was the third of them to have lost their parents.

"Cursed."


	5. Consolation and Preparation

First it was him, then Ollie, and now Tommy. Bruce didn't believe in such supernatural things as curses, but there was no way this could be a coincidence. There had to be something tying them together, something that mattered.

"What's going on?" Ollie was still in his pajamas as he tipsily ran down the hall.

Bruce walked up to him and turned his back to Tommy as he silently cried to himself. "Tommy's parents…" Bruce trailed off trying to find the right words.

"Seriously?" Ollie looked at his friend and then back towards Tommy. "What do we do?"

"I think I've got an idea. You remember that girl I was talking about?"

Ollie took half a step back. "Aren't we a bit young for that?"

Bruce smacked Ollie on the back of the head. "Not like that. I just figure if we all have a fun time, it'll get his mind off of things."

Ollie bit his lip and nodded his head. "Maybe. Because it took that long for us to get over ours as well." Ollie hit Bruce back. "I'm thinking we should just give him his space."

Bruce thought of something that would only work because he was talking to Ollie. "When my parents were taken, I had lots of space."

Ollie struggled to think of a rebuttal, before finally conceding. "You're right." Ollie turned right around and headed towards the new orphan. "Oh, Tommy!"

Bruce was both offended and very pleased himself. He decided to walk over to the table and see how long it took Ollie to realize he was still in his pink and white striped p.j.s.

"Hey, cheer up." Ollie was on full schmooze. "You ever hear of the Habersmith School for Gifted Women?"

"You mean the all girls school?" Tommy said as he looked up from his hands.

"Yeah that one. See, Brucey here found a tunnel from here to there."

Tommy had that confused face you get when playing a new board game. "In the school?"

"No," Bruce chimed in. "It's outside on the grounds. A cave that must have been missed by some of the groundskeepers."

"Why would the groundskeepers care?" Ollie interjected.

"Because they wouldn't want people like us meeting with the girls," Bruce responded.

Ollie shook his head and turned back to Tommy. "Point is, there's a girl Bruce met there the other day, and she wants to hang out with all of us. You want in?"

Tommy took a few more sniffles before giving his answer. "I guess it would be okay."

"Great!" Ollie and Bruce were both surprised at the suddenness of his recovery. While it wasn't a complete recovery, it was still a bigger step than Bruce or Ollie had taken that early on. "We'll just get ready and get out of here."

"After we get ready and all that, right?" Tommy suggested.

"Why do you say that?" Ollie said.

"You're still in your sleeping suit," Tommy revealed.

"That, and she isn't expecting us until two," Bruce chimed in.

With those two statements, Ollie had become quite embarrassed of his situation, and tried covering it up with wit. "All part of the plan, Brucey. After all, these are some pretty spiffy pajamas, and why be late to the party when you can set it up?"

Bruce rolled his eyes and Tommy gave a short sigh.

"Sure, Ollie," Bruce said. "That's just what you meant. Now, let's all just get ready for the day before we go and eat and have fun and all that other junk." And with that, Bruce assumed the role of mother bear and led Ollie and Tommy back up to their rooms.

Kevin was still playing his game in the exact same spot as when Bruce had left him earlier.

"Don't you ever shut that off?" Bruce asked.

"Only when it needs new batteries." Tommy then entered with his suitcase and opened it up. "What's up, Tommy-Boy?"

Bruce turned Kevin around. "Tommy's parents died in a car crash."

"Really?" Bruce nodded to him. "There's no way, you've gotta be pulling my-"

"Do I look like the person to joke about that?" Bruce gave a more gravelly and intense timber to his voice. It didn't help that his voice was still that same prepubescent high, though.

Kevin took what Bruce said to heart, looked at his game and put it on the bedside table next to them as he turned back to his friend in need. "Hey, buddy," he calmly said to Tommy. "See any good films lately?" Tommy sat motionless in front of his open suitcase. "Did you forget where everything goes? I didn't think it had been that long. Here," Kevin bent down to grab a few items. "You're dresser is this one." Kevin pointed to the one at the near end of the room. "You can tell because it has this purple guy next to the lamp."

"It's The Phantom," Tommy said coldly.

"Oh yea, that guy that Bruce hates."

"Watch it," Bruce chimed in.

Tommy kind of chuckled. "That's the reason I got it."

"I thought you said it was a birthday present from your aunt."

Tommy began laughing. "My birthday isn't until April."

Kevin gave off a snort, and then cocked his head back suddenly. "Hey, wait a second." Tommy spun around and looked through Kevin's dresser.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked.

Kevin gave no reply as he dug through one of the drawers. "Ah-hah!" he cried, "that means this is mine!" Kevin turned to face them. In his hands rested a forked piece of wood with an elastic band taut between them.

"And what would you do with a sling shot?" Bruce inquired.

"I don't know," Kevin responded, "but it's not rightfully Tommy's anymore."

Tommy laughed a little more as Kevin placed it in his drawer and went back to playing his new game. Not more than a few seconds later, Ollie slid into the room with proper clothes on, although quite a bit disheveled.

"Hey, everybody ready?" Ollie asked.

Bruce once again turned to him and gave him a reminder that, "She won't be there for four hours, and I still haven't had breakfast yet." Bruce got up and walked over to Ollie. "Are you really this anxious to see Ms. Beaumont?"

Ollie spread his arms out. "Do you see any other girls here?"

"Of course not, this is a boy's school," Kevin chimed in.

"Exactly my point. This is a chance to learn of the female species and all of its wiles."

Bruce gave Ollie his stern squinty look. "Four hours. In that time, we will eat, comfort our friend, and not speak of this until then. Is this understood?"

Ollie put two fingers to his forehead. "You have my word."

"You were never a scout," Tommy said.

"Doesn't mean I can't swear like one."

"Yeah, like how I can swear like a sailor, but I'm sea sick." Kevin's eyes were still firmly on his handheld.

The three looked at him in confusion. "You swear?" Ollie asked.

What followed was the most obscene twenty seconds of language any of them would hear for another six years.

Everyone with the exception of Kevin looked at eachother and traded looks of astonishment.

"Food?" Ollie asked. The others nodded in agreement, and started on their way to making a new friend.


End file.
